Boston, Mass.

"Go home, darling, even if it's only for a few hours. You know Eleanor's in good hands here."

Charles was sitting in a chair next to his wife's bedside, watching her sleep. He knew his mother was right, but he couldn't quite bring himself to let go of Ellie's hand. He'd had no idea that being sick with relief could be a literal effect, until the surgeon had finally emerged from OR and told him that she would be okay. "She haemorrhaged very badly," he'd told Charles, "And I had to perform a salpingectomy. She'll be fine now, although… well, there's no need to tell you, is there? You know what it means just as well as I do."

Yes, he knew. A salpingectomy meant that one of Ellie's fallopian tubes had had to be removed, reducing her chances of having another child by fifty percent at a stroke. But right now, that didn't matter one little bit.

"Charles." His mother's voice was quiet, but he could hear the steely firmness that meant it would be pointless arguing. "Take a shower, shave, change your clothes, rest. Above all, go and see those little girls - especially Elizabeth, she's old enough to understand."

"It's late, mother, she'll be asleep," he said.

"Well - perhaps," she said, then placed a hand on his shoulder: "Though I seem to remember a young man not much older than Beth is now, who sat on the landing half the night waiting for news of his brother."

Charles looked up, a little startled. It was unusual for his mother to talk about Timmy, even indirectly. "I did, didn't I?" He remembered how his father had picked him up, carried him into the nursery, and sat holding him until Charles went to sleep - too tired to keep asking about his brother, but sure that his father wouldn't have let anything bad happen to him. "Alright," he said. A shower and a shave would feel good. "I'll go. Just for a little while."

The front of the house was in darkness as Charles got out of the car, but as he reached into his pocket for his key the hall light went on and, a moment later, Parks opened the door for him.

"How is Mrs Winchester, sir?" the butler enquired, taking Charles' coat and hat, "We've all been terribly anxious."

Charles nodded his thanks. "She's resting comfortably, Parks, thank you. Are the children alright?"

"Miss Elizabeth has been rather upset, I'm afraid - she saw the ambulance arrive. But I believe Mrs Stone managed to get her settled."

"I'd better go check on them," said Charles, "You can go to bed, Parks. I'll be going back to the hospital later, but I'll let myself out."

Before going upstairs, he went through to the drawing-room and poured a large measure of scotch into a tumbler. Then he remembered that he'd told his driver to go to bed. Besides, it probably wasn't a good idea to start drinking just now – the way he felt, one glass wouldn't be enough.

Carefully and deliberately, he poured the whisky back into the decanter.

When he reached the nursery, the twins were sleeping soundly, and he did no more than graze their foreheads with his lips before creeping out and making his way along the corridor to Beth's room. He thought at first that she was sleeping too, but then the door creaked a little on its hinge, and a little voice mumbled, "Mommy?"

"Hey," he whispered, gently, going across to sit on the bed as Beth peeked over the edge of the eiderdown at him, "Are you still awake, sweetheart?"

She needed no more encouragement than that to dissolve into tears, and Charles gently sat her up and pulled her to him for a hug.

"Mommy's sick," she sobbed, words tumbling out as she clung to him, "I waited and waited, but she didn't come home. And nanny Stone said if I went to sleep, maybe mommy would be here in the morning. So I tried to go to sleep, but I couldn't, and - and then I heard the car. And I thought it was mommy."

"Shh, it's alright, your mommy's not sick any more," said Charles, rocking her in his arms and stroking her hair, "The doctors at the hospital made the pain go away, you don't have to worry now. It's okay, I'm here, I've got you."

He could feel the sobs subsiding as he spoke, and he found his handkerchief, wiped her eyes and nose, and held her close.

"Will she come home tomorrow?"

"No, the doctors will want to keep her in hospital for a few days to make sure she's all better. But perhaps, if she's not feeling too tired, you'll be able to see her. Right now, she's asleep, which is where you should be too, hmm?"

A sniffle. "Will you stay with me?"

"Yes, sweetie, till you're fast asleep. Then I'm going to go back and hold mommy's hand for a while, okay?"

He felt her nod.

"Will you read me a story?"

"I'll have to put the lamp on then. You lie down now... give me a kiss... What story do you want?"

She pointed to one of the books on the bedside table.

"This one? Again?"

"Please, daddy, I like that one."

"Alright. Close your eyes now - that's it." Charles hardly needed to look at the book, he knew it so well, but all the same he opened the well-worn cover and began: "Once upon a time..." By the time the beautiful enchantress had turned the spoiled Prince into a monster on the second page, Beth was sound asleep.

Back at the hospital, refreshed by his shower and shave, Charles had intended to stay awake the whole night - but when he woke with a crick in his neck and what seemed to be a fold in his spine, he realised that he'd nodded off after all. As he yawned and endeavoured to straighten up, he noticed Ellie's eyelids flickering, and he moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Hi," she whispered, blinking up at him and squeezing his hand.

"Hi yourself," he said, leaning over to touch her cheek and stroke her hair, "You know you look a hell of a lot prettier than the last patient I stayed up all night with."

"Yeah, well, Max had a broken nose didn't he?"

He kissed her, more gently than he really wanted to, but mindful that she probably didn't much feel like being kissed at all. "I love you," he murmured, "I know I don't say it as much as you'd like, but I do, I truly do. And I was so afraid I wouldn't have the chance to tell you again."

"Love you too," she said, softly, "Oh Charles, I'm so sorry..."

"Sorry?" He realised she was fighting tears, "Ellie, you don't have anything to apologise for!"

"But I... the baby," she gulped, "And dragging you back from Washington..."

"Ellie, none of that was your fault! You nearly died!" He kissed her again. "I thought I was going to lose you, do you think anything else matters apart from your being alright?"

"It was that bad?" She shook her head, "I knew the doctors were concerned - but I was hurting so much I couldn't really take in what they were saying. It's just... one minute they were telling me I was pregnant, and the next they were saying they'd have to... to..."

"It would have killed you, Ellie," he said, quietly, brushing the back of his hand against her wet cheek. "It's me who should be apologising – for that ridiculous argument, for not kissing you goodbye… it was all I could think about on the plane back. If you'd… " He stopped, swallowed hard. "I'd never have forgiven myself."

"Darlin', you mustn't think like that. I didn't kiss you goodbye either, did I?"

"I suppose not," he said, "Ellie, our children can got to school wherever you like. I'll put up the money to build one if I have to. Just so long as you get well."

"Deal," she smiled, tiredly.

The door opened and Ellie's surgeon came in. "I'm just finishing my shift," he said, "But I wanted to look in and see how my patient's doing before I go."

"Ellie, this is Doctor Leonard Scott – he saved your life last night," said Charles, as he stood up.

"I don't know how to start thanking you," said Ellie.

"You don't need to, it's my job." Scott checked the IV and Ellie's pulse, gave her an injection and updated the notes at the end of the bed. "How are you feeling?" he asked, "A little tired, I expect?"

"And sore."

"Hmm, well that's to be expected. If the pain gets too bad though, you must tell the nurse, and we'll see about increasing your dosage of morphine. Now I suggest that you get some rest – that goes for you too, Charles."

"Yes, alright Len. Thanks."

As the gynaecologist nodded and went out, Charles picked up his jacket and leaned down to kiss Ellie again. "I'll go and let Beth know you're awake," he said, "And I'll come back this afternoon to see how you're doing."

"Okay. Charles?"

"Yes?"

"Can I still have kids?"

"Just so long as they're mine!" he said, grinning. He sat down again for a moment, and took her hand. "Leonard had to remove one of your fallopian tubes," he explained, "But you have another. If you really want to try filling the rest of those bedrooms, it shouldn't be a problem. Of course, getting you pregnant might take a little more work," he said, giving her a wink, "But that's okay with me!"

"Oh, get outta here," she smiled, her eyes beginning to close again as the medication took effect, "And give the girls a big hug and kiss from me."

"Of course I will – and I'll bring Beth by a little later," he promised, "If I can smuggle her past Reception."

"I'd like that," Ellie murmured, "But we'll miss the Reception anyway…"

"What?" It took Charles a moment to realise that Ellie had misunderstood him, and had just inadvertently reminded him about where they were supposed to be heading tomorrow.

"Oh Lord," he said, "Radar's wedding. I'd forgotten all about it!"

Otumwa, Iowa

There wasn't much room for dancing in the balloon-bedecked Chapel hall so, once they'd had the first dance, Radar and Patty left the space to others, and began to circulate among their guests. The 4077th table was the first one they stopped at, and everyone there stood up to shake Radar by the hand and kiss the bride.

"Gee, it's sure swell of all you sirs to come," said Radar, adding, "And you too, ma'am," in Margaret's direction. "Sure is a pity Major Winchester couldn't make it, I wanted to show him where the cows are going to live and all."

"Cows?" grinned BJ, "Why would Charles care where your cows reside, Radar?"

"Oh. Well, he sent 'em," said Radar, "At least – he and his wife sent one, and his parents sent the other."

"They're a wedding present," Patty explained, "Turned up yesterday in a special truck."

"Yeah, with bells round their necks and everything," Radar enthused, "They're real pretty!"

"And they'll be real useful too," said Patty.

"Oh, er, that's not meaning that the things you've all bought us won't be useful," stuttered Radar, "I mean, uh, we ain't opened 'em yet, but I'm sure they'll be swell."

"Well, when you open them, Radar, at least you'll have the satisfaction of knowing that we brought our presents in person," said Hawkeye. He turned to Margaret, "Did Charles say anything to you about not coming?"

She shook her head. "No. I said I'd see him at the wedding, and he nodded. I thought Ellie at least was looking forward to coming, so she could get to meet Radar."

"What did the telegram say, son?" asked Potter, from the opposite side of the table.

"Uh…unable to make wedding. Unavoidably detained Boston. Congratulations and best wishes," quoted Radar, from memory.

"You know what that means, don't you?" said Hawkeye, "He's had a better offer."

"Yeah, like some fellow squillionaire needing an urgent X-ray," said BJ, "And being prepared to pay through the nose for it."

"Know what I think?" said Hawkeye, "I think we should give him a call, tell him what a good time we're having, and inform him that he's mean, pompous and egotistical, and that we never wish to see him again."

"Er…" began Max, stopping suddenly as Soon-Li kicked his ankle.

"I think that's a great idea," said BJ, draining his champagne, "Radar – where can we find a phone?"

In the Minister's little office, behind the Chapel vestry, they found what they were looking for. BJ and Margaret perched themselves on the desk, while Hawkeye took the only chair and put his feet up while he waited for the call to be put through.

"Hello? Hello, is that…uh…Mrs Hall?" he said, sitting up and propping his elbows on the desk as he spoke, "This is Doctor Pierce, one of Doctor Winchester's…oh, you do? Good. Is Doctor Winchester there, please? He's at the hospital?" He gave the others a 'we-were-right' look – then his expression changed as the voice on the other end of the phone added more information. "I'm sorry, what was that?" he said, "Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. What's wrong with her?"

BJ and Margaret looked at him questioningly, and leaned a little closer to the receiver, in hopes of hearing the other end of the conversation. But all they could catch was Hawkeye saying, "I see. Yes. Yes, of course, I understand. Would you ask Doctor Winchester to pass on our best wishes from the 4077th, please? Yes. Thanks very much."

He put the receiver down.

"Well?"

"What?"

"Seems we owe Charles an apology for our unworthy thoughts," said Hawkeye, "He's at the hospital because he's visiting Ellie – she was rushed in two days ago with an ectopic pregnancy."

"Oh my God!"

"Is she okay?" asked BJ.

Hawkeye nodded. "Resting comfortably, but she'll be in the hospital for at least another three days," he said. He switched his gaze to Margaret. "What say we fly back via Boston and pay her a visit?"

"Seems like the least we can do," she agreed, climbing off the desk, "Come on, we'd better go tell the others where he is."

Boston, Mass.

"Margaret! Hawkeye!" Ellie exclaimed, as the door opened and the two familiar faces peered in. "Come on in! What are you doing here?"

"We came to visit, of course," said Margaret, entering the room bearing a huge bouquet of flowers, "When you weren't at the wedding, we called your house."

"Actually, we were all set to give you hell for not turning up," said Hawkeye to Charles, "Sorry."

Charles shrugged. "Hardly the first time you've ever misjudged me," he said, standing up to surrender his chair to Margaret. He was about to sit himself down on the bed next to Ellie, but Hawkeye beat him to it.

"Payback time," said Hawkeye, his eyes twinkling, and leaned down to give Ellie a lingering kiss, just as Charles had done with Margaret a few years before. "Now you've had a kiss from the handsome prince, you'll be better in no time," he said to her.

"It's okay to ignore him, Ellie," said Margaret, placing the flowers on the side-table before settling into the chair.

"Ignore who?" she giggled.

"Hmm," said Hawkeye, standing up and fetching a second chair from the corner of the room, "I must be losing my touch. I guess I'll have to try that again when you're off of the analgesics."

Charles sat down on the opposite side of the bed, and put an arm across the top of the pillows that Ellie was propped up against. "You had your chance, Pierce," he said, "Better quit before you turn back into a toad."

"Hey, don't be too hard on him," said Ellie, touching Charles' hand, "It's sweet of them to come see me after all." She turned to Margaret. "How was the wedding? I'm sorry we missed it."

"Oh, it went so well, and it was just great to see Radar again," said Margaret, moving her chair closer before rummaging in her handbag, "And Patty's so pretty… I've got some photos somewhere."

"Already?"

Hawkeye grinned. "We took the Polaroid – the one that caused all the trouble, Charles, remember?"

"It's still causing trouble," said Margaret, "BJ started teasing that it must be his turn to have it, so you can imagine the bickering that caused!" She found the pictures she was looking for, flourished them with a cry of triumph. "Got them! Here, Ellie, this is a lovely one of the dress."

"Oh, it's beautiful! What is it, satin and lace? And what a gorgeous bouquet."

Charles groaned and stood up. "If you're going to talk frocks and flowers, I'm going to go get us all a coffee."

"I'll come with you," said Hawkeye, following him to the door. He winked at Ellie. "You should have heard Klinger raving about the bridesmaids' dresses! Thought I was back in Korea for a while there!"

Charles led the way to his office, and asked Miss Walters to make a fresh pot of coffee for the four of them. "I'm not supposed to take it along to Ellie's room in case I spill it over somebody in the corridor," he told Hawkeye, "But I haven't let that stop me yet!"

"Yeah, well, you always were a stickler for the rules, Charles," grinned Hawkeye, perching himself on the Secretary's desk. He waited till Miss Walters had left the room to go and fetch some water, then his demeanour changed and became more serious. "So how is Ellie – really?"

"Physically, she's fine," said Charles, leaning against the filing cabinet and folding his arms. He sighed. "But she gets upset about… what happened. She thinks of it as losing a baby and I…" He shrugged, shook his head. "I think of it as something that nearly killed her. I don't know what to say to her, except…" He stopped, switched his gaze to the carpet.

"Except that you love her?" Hawkeye smiled, amused that Charles should be so bashful about it. "Well, in my, you know, limited experience with women, that's usually as good a line as any." He grinned. "Even works with Margaret - sometimes!"

March 1956

"Ellie?" Charles fastened the cord of his dressing-gown as he went into the drawing-room, "It's nearly one o'clock in the morning, darling, you shouldn't be out of bed. What are you doing?"

"Nothing," she said, looking around from her seat in the easy chair by the fire, as he crossed the room toward her, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. I lost track of the time."

"I'm not surprised," he said, catching sight of the glass in her hand, and the decanter on the table next to her. "Ellie, how many of those have you had?"

She swallowed the dregs left in the tumbler and put it down before answering his question. "I haven't actually been counting, but I haven't had enough to get drunk. Not nearly enough."

"But… why would you want to?" He knelt in front of her and took her hand, "Is this about the baby again?"

Ellie nodded. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "It's just… with Beth's birthday coming up, I… found myself reckoning up when it would have been due and…" She dashed the back of her hand across her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said again.

"You should have woken me," chided Charles, gently, "Not come to sit down here by yourself."

"You're operating on Margaret's father tomorrow," she said, "I mean… today. I didn't want to disturb you. We've been over and over it before, I know, and besides..."

"Besides what?"

Ellie shook her head. "I know you don't feel it the way I do. Do you?"

"No," he admitted, "No, I don't. I can't. Not after spending five of the longest hours of my life wondering whether you'd pull through the operation. I couldn't think beyond losing you, Ellie. I still can't. Sweetheart, we have three beautiful children, and there's no reason we shouldn't have more if you want to." He reached up to brush a tear from her cheek. "I love you, Ellie. I can't grieve for an unborn child that very nearly killed you. I'm sorry."

Ellie sniffed, pulled a crumpled hankie from her dressing-gown pocket and blew her nose. "I keep imagining what happened to it - you know... afterwards? I wonder if it was a boy or a girl, and I think of how much you'd love to have a son. And then I think... what if it happens again? That'll be it, right? No more kids?"

"Ellie, the chances of it happening again are ridiculously small, you mustn't keep worrying about that."

"Yeah, I know, you've told me before," she said, letting him pull her to her feet and leaning against him as he guided her back to their bedroom, "But right now, I'm not sure what scares me more: getting pregnant again - or not."

In his office, Charles took off his jacket, pulled on his white coat, and was taking one last look through Alvin Houlihan's file when his secretary phoned through to tell him that Mrs Pierce was waiting to see him.

"Send her in," he instructed, turning to greet Margaret as she came in. "Morning, Margaret. Sleep well?"

"Not a wink," she said, "Despite Uncle Bob and Aunt Vi's best efforts – whisky, hot milk, a nice warm bath before bedtime…"

He smiled. "Nice to know that you have such confidence in my abilities."

She folded her arms. "Charles, it's a heart operation. Stand there and tell me there's absolutely no risk at all."

He put the file down, and put his hands on her shoulders. "You know I can't do that. Of course there's a risk, Margaret, just as there's a risk with any operation. I've explained all about that to your father. He's a soldier, he understands about risk-taking. So do you. But I can promise you that he stands a better chance with me operating on him than anyone else in the States."

"Only 'the States'?" she asked, "Not the entire wood?"

He grinned. "Give me time!" He glanced at the clock on the wall, and placed a kiss on her forehead, "And give me some time? I need to get ready now."

"Oh, of course, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have bothered you…"

"Margaret, it's hardly a problem – we didn't used to get the luxury of having patients' notes to read, did we? But I do like to read them through now that I have the chance."

"You know he's allergic to penicillin, don't you?" she said, as she turned to go.

"Yes, Margaret."

"Oh, and his blood pressure…"

"Margaret! I can read!"

She shrugged him a sheepish apology. "I'll see you later," she said, heading for the door.

Charles opened the door for her and told her again not to worry. As he closed the door behind her, he wished he could stop worrying about what he would do if he had to tell her something went wrong.

To be continued…